


Details

by rockinhamburger



Series: A Universe Where Prop 8 And Other Related Homophobic State Laws Have Long Been Defeated [1]
Category: Glee
Genre: Adoption, Future Fic, Humor, M/M, Married Couple, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-08
Updated: 2011-01-08
Packaged: 2017-10-14 13:55:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/149894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rockinhamburger/pseuds/rockinhamburger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fast-forward several years in the future. Kurt and Blaine are navigating the waters of marriage, and everything that entails.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Details

The hardest part of working in fashion design, or perhaps more accurately, heading your very own fashion line, is making everything fit your schedule.

That’s Kurt’s experience, anyway. He works crazy hours, sometimes not even getting home until half-past two in the morning, at which point he might have to down two cups of coffee and jump in the shower to be ready for the forty-five minute drive to Manhattan in order to make the 6:00 am meeting with his employees in preparation for the fashion show that night.

Sometimes Kurt will go several days without sleep. And that’s not even counting Fashion Week, all of which are continuously the very best and yet very worst weeks of his work year because Kurt’s lucky if he gets a half-hour of sleep a night.

His work schedule is hell, but the pleasures in life make up for it.

Namely Blaine. And a shared, home-cooked meal in their gorgeous dining room. Or a marathon of Johnny Depp movies and some quality cuddling time on the couch. Or a hard fuck on the kitchen floor, both of them making enough noise to wake the dead.

The exhaustion is always there, always bone-deep, and it’s the hardest part of his job.

But it’s worth it. He has everything he ever wanted, and more, and it’s all thanks to genuine hard work and hauling ass and being the fiercest head bitch in charge around, a position he’s been angling for since the age of eight when he asked his dad for a sewing machine for his birthday.

~*~

Kurt leaves the office early on Friday, at 5:30, and drives toward home, Gaga’s latest masterpiece of an album blasting in the interior of his silver Lexus. He’s singing along here and there, but his mind’s elsewhere.

Tonight is his and Blaine’s anniversary. Not their wedding anniversary, which is in June, but the anniversary of their very first official date nine years ago. It’s something they celebrate every year despite how apparently unconventional it is, according to Mercedes and Tina.

He’s distracted for a moment in pursuing a line of thought about the both of them. He should call Mercedes this weekend and check how her audition went, and Tina, too; find out how her and Brad and tiny Isabel are doing in their new home. He makes a mental note, and joins Gaga in song.

A short while later, Kurt pulls into the driveway and parks behind Blaine’s hybrid. They switch cars every few days so that Kurt’s carbon footprint is reduced somewhat. He knows he should get his own eco-friendly car, but he can’t bring himself to part with his baby just yet.

He exits the car and slams it shut, locking it automatically, and all but sprints up the front steps to the door. He unlocks and pushes it open to step inside his house, and the scent of cumin hits him immediately. He sighs happily. The tension in his shoulders is already lessening.

He’s home.

Blaine’s cooking in the kitchen, grilling something in a skillet at the stove and singing along to Kiss From a Rose, which is filtering through the kitchen from the iPhone speakers on the counter.

Kurt will say hello in a second, but first he has to enjoy the moment. This is Blaine at his sexiest, when he’s just moving around their home and being all domestic. Kurt approaches as Blaine croons, “The more I get of you the stranger it feeeeels, yeeeeah!” and then he starts as Kurt’s arms come around him.

“Shit! Scared me,” he gasps.

“Sorry,” Kurt mumbles, nuzzling Blaine’s throat.

Blaine turns his head to meet Kurt’s mouth in a kiss that’s so smooth Kurt’s knees wobble. Just a little. Not much.

“Hi,” Kurt breathes when he pulls away, opening his eyes and meeting Blaine’s warm gaze.

“Hi!” says Blaine, turning around to give him a real hug and make contented noises into Kurt’s shoulder. “I know I saw you this morning, but it feels like it’s been days.”

“Yeah,” Kurt says, closing his eyes tight and squeezing Blaine to try and get across what he can’t seem to say with words right now. They pull away at the exact same moment, and Kurt smirks at their synchronicity, peering curiously into the sizzling skillet. “Mmm, pork chops? Smells _amazing_.”

Blaine nods, sliding an arm around Kurt’s waist and picking up the spatula on the counter beside the stove to flip said pork chops like the cooking pro that he is. “Pork chops with nectarine salsa.”

“Oh my god that sounds good,” Kurt moans, stomach grumbling. He hasn’t eaten since 11:30.

“Great, it’ll be ready in five minutes.”

“Lovely, I’ll set the table.”

“No need; already done.”

Kurt moves away from Blaine to walk over to the entrance to the dining room. Actual tears well up in his eyes as he looks at the preparations Blaine has made. His favourite plates are spread out on the table, as well as two lit candles and an exquisite centrepiece that throws it all together perfectly.

He turns back and sees Blaine watching him. “I love it.” He walks back over and kisses Blaine on the lips. “I love you.”

Blaine lingers on their kiss for a moment. “And I love you,” he rumbles, “but you’re gonna have to change into that shirt I like so much to really feel my love.”

Kurt laughs and pulls away to do precisely that, and to wash up. By the time he’s trekked back downstairs, Blaine’s placing everything on the table.

“Perfect,” Blaine says, raking his eyes up and down Kurt’s body. “Divine, even.”

Kurt leans over to flick Blaine’s forehead and grins. “You’re such a dork.”

“But you love me anyway.”

“That I do,” Kurt agrees, sitting down in his usual spot. Blaine fixes Kurt’s plate, which Kurt accepts with a heartfelt thank-you, and then he fills his own plate and sits down with it across from Kurt.

“How was work?” Blaine asks immediately.

“Nuh-uh, I so do not want to talk about work over this fabulous meal,” Kurt replies. “I want to hear about _your_ day.”

“Oh, so _I_ can talk about my day?” Blaine asks with a quirk of his eyebrow and a smirk.

“Affirmative! Commence speaking... now.”

Blaine laughs and takes a bite of his food. “’Kay. Well, I got called into work at around 10.”

Kurt’s too busy eating to make a verbal sound of interest, so he tilts his head questioningly.

“Math teacher at Preston has mono. And save it; I’ve heard seven jokes about that today, and the first one was terrible so that should give you an idea of how bad the rest were.”

Kurt chuckles. “So you had to teach math?” he asks distastefully.

“I like teaching math, remember? But yeah. Algebra.”

Kurt gags playfully, and Blaine makes a face so rich in exasperation that Kurt throws his head back in laughter.

There is absolutely nothing better than eating dinner with his husband. Nothing.

Okay, the sex is pretty good, too. Excellent. Superb. Phenomenal.

And now he’s getting distracted.

“Okay, so how were the kids?” he asks curiously, sipping at his glass of water.

“They were fine. I talked to this one girl after class who told me she’s never fully understood algebra before. But she says she’s starting to get it.”

“Awww!” Kurt coos. “Look at you making a difference.”

Blaine smiles and takes a break from talking to eat some more of his dinner. They descend into a comfortable silence and give each other almost covert looks over their meals, smiling every time their eyes meet.

The food’s so delicious. Way, way better than the raspberry danish Kurt bought this morning.

“Ohmygod!” Kurt says, remembering, “I heard the most ridiculous conversation at the bakery this morning. This couple in front of me were trying to decide between a baker’s dozen and twelve donuts, and they had a legitimate argument about why there’s a difference in price when it comes out to the same number of donuts.”

Blaine lets out a bark of laughter. “Did you school them?”

“No,” says Kurt, rolling his eyes. “They asked the baker, and he explained. Embarrassment ensued.”

Blaine shakes his head in amusement and eats the last bite of his food, pushing his plate forward slightly to fold his arms on the table.

“You’re sure you don’t want to talk about work?” Blaine asks.

Kurt finishes eating the food in his mouth. “Trust me; it’s better if I don’t start. Let’s just say it was a nightmare and leave it at that.”

“A size three nightmare or a size ten?”

Kurt can’t help but smile. “Seven,” he decides.

Blaine makes a sympathetic sound. “Was it Suzy’s fault again?”

“All five times,” Kurt nods.

Blaine scrunches his face up. “Sorry it was so rough.”

Kurt narrows his eyes. “Listen, hubby, don’t think I haven’t noticed your trickery to get me to talk about work when I already said I don’t want to. This fucking delicious meal and your scrumptious self more than make up for my crappy day.” He finishes speaking with a wide smile, and Blaine returns it with one of his own, and it looks so sexy on him that Kurt puts his fork and knife down on his plate with a clang.

“Shall we skip dessert?” Kurt asks briskly, standing up.

“Hell yes,” Blaine says fervently, jumping up and blowing out the candles before joining Kurt in their rush to get up the stairs as quickly as possible.

-

Kurt’s alarm jerks him awake at 5:30. He groans and slams down the off button. He’d evidently forgotten to turn it off last night. Though, to be fair, he was a bit too worn out and tired to remember, considering he and Blaine had spent the better part of three hours exploring each other’s bodies with their hands and mouths, and fucking twice, hard and fast at first and slow and searing later on.

Kurt feels his cock harden and tsks in irritation. Saturday mornings are for sleeping in, not sex before noon.

His dick’s not listening, though, and he looks over his shoulder to see that Blaine’s fast asleep, spread-eagled on his back with his arms and legs splayed out. He’s taking up a ridiculous amount of the bed, and rather than be annoyed, Kurt smiles (quite sappily, probably) and rolls around so he’s facing Blaine’s body. He lets his eyes roam his husband’s naked body for a few moments, resting his head on his own bicep for comfort.

He falls asleep again eventually, and he’s roused later by Blaine coaxing his tongue into a hot, sleepy kiss he thinks should be his alarm every morning. Much better than the blaring wake-up call he usually gets.

-

Kurt makes Blaine breakfast -- bacon and eggs, Blaine’s favourite – and then he makes himself an egg-white omelette, joining Blaine at the kitchen table a few minutes later.

They eat in relative silence, probably extra hungry from the previous night’s exertion, and once they’re finished eating they take their coffees into the living room and sit down to watch the news.

During a commercial, Blaine turns the television off with the remote and puts his hand on Kurt’s knee. Kurt looks over curiously.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something, but we’ve both been pretty busy.”

Kurt doesn’t say anything, just listens. The hand on Kurt’s knee is busy as Blaine begins his nervous tic of picking at the always-present hangnail on his thumb with the nail of his index finger. Kurt clasps Blaine’s hand with his and laces their fingers together, looking him in the eye.

Blaine looks down. “I’ve been thinking.” He bites his lip. “And I don’t want you to think I’m not really happy with the way things are right now; it’s not like I want to change things because they’re uninteresting, I just--”

Kurt lifts his free hand and places it on the side of Blaine’s face, thumbing his cheekbone. Blaine’s eyes flick up to meet Kurt’s, and Kurt says, quietly, “I’m here. I’m listening and I’m not jumping to conclusions.”

Blaine sort of leans into the weight of Kurt’s hand, takes a visibly deep breath and asks, “What do you think about adoption?”

Kurt could play pretend and say something like, ‘You know I’m all for it; there are lots of babies that need homes. Why deny them a loving family because of sexual orientation?’ but he knows that’s not what Blaine means.

There are a number of thoughts swirling around in his head, but the one that stands out is that he has certainly thought about adoption. Sometimes he looks around this big house and thinks they should fill it with another, smaller body. A little boy or girl who’ll run between their legs, a human being they can teach; how to ride a bike and sing, how to read and write and cook and sew, and how to treat others with kindness and respect.

So, yeah, he’s thought about it.

“Yes,” Kurt says, “I’ve thought about it before.”

Blaine’s mouth forms an ‘O’ of surprise.

Kurt’s got to voice his concerns, too. “But, Blaine, I work a lot, and I don’t want to be _that_ guy, the dad that’s never around because of work. Honestly, sometimes I feel like I’m barely giving you what you need. To add another person into the mix?” He stops, because that pretty much says it all.

Blaine sits up straighter and squeezes Kurt’s hand. “You give me everything I need.” He smiles in assurance, and then in excitement. “But you’ve thought about it?”

Kurt nods. “A lot.”

Blaine looks thoughtful. “Well, obviously I’ve been thinking about it a lot, too. I understand your hesitation, but could you... not just think about it but actually consider it? Just give it some genuine thought over the next few weeks, and what it would be like. And maybe we can talk about it again at some point?”

Blaine looks so hopeful Kurt doesn’t have to heart to say no, whether he’d like to or not. “Okay.”

Blaine kisses him and just stays there, breathing. “Thank you.”

~*~

The problem is, now that Blaine’s asked Kurt to think about it, he can’t seem to _stop_ thinking about it. He’s getting distracted at work, he keeps looking at other people’s kids and losing himself in thought, and four days after their penultimate conversation, Kurt’s actually looking up adoption agencies in the State of New York.

Just for general knowledge. He’s just curious.

He X’s his browser window before he’s found anything remotely promising, chest tight with fear. He can’t seriously be considering this. His career’s just starting!

But when he sees a woman rolling a baby carriage down the street on his way home from work that evening, he knows the tight feeling in his chest, this time, has nothing to do with fear.

~*~

Kurt winds up talking to Tina on the phone a few weeks after his and Blaine’s anniversary. She sounds a bit more rested than the last time he talked to her, which isn’t surprising since it was just after Christmas.

“How’s Blaine?” she asks.

“He’s good. He’s been getting lots of calls for work lately, which is nice.”

“That’s good! And how’s work?”

“Crazy,” Kurt says; his usual answer. “How’s Brad? And Izzy?”

“They’re both great. Brad’s watching her right now, actually. His turn, damn it,” she laughs.

The whole adoption thought process sweeps over him again, and before he knows it he’s asking the question he’s been curious about for a long time. “What’s it like, being a parent?”

Tina’s clearly been asked this question before, because she answers immediately: “Exhausting beyond belief. I’ve been tired for six months solid.”

Kurt smiles; he knows the feeling.

“But,” Tina continues, a smile in her voice, “there is actually nothing I’m more proud of creating. Isabel’s the most amazing thing that’s happened in my life since I met Brad, and -- between you and me, she beats him by a mile.”

Kurt laughs along with her.

But his thoughts are racing.

-

Kurt finds Blaine where he’s sitting at the kitchen table with his laptop, typing away. Blaine looks up when he walks in and smiles with warmth. “Hey, baby. How’s Tina?”

Kurt sits down at the table. “She’s fine. She sends her love.”

“Awww,” Blaine says, closing his laptop.

Kurt watches Blaine stretch his arms over his head and yawn widely. Then he pulls his chair closer to the table and ruffles his bangs. “So, I’ve been thinking.”

Blaine’s stretching as Kurt says this, but he puts his arms down hastily when he registers what Kurt’s said. “Really? And?”

Kurt lets out the breath he didn’t even know he was holding in. “I want a kid.”

Blaine’s chair clatters to the floor as he jumps up. He tugs Kurt to his feet and pulls him into a bone-cracking hug. Kurt hugs him back, squeezing his eyes shut and trying not to tear up.

Happiness has effectively squashed his uncertainty and nerves, at least for the moment.

~*~

The next few days are filled with a kind of frenetic energy that’s unnerving. They don’t really talk about it, but it’s like a fluffy cloud hanging over their heads.

They’re going to adopt.

Of course, there are about a million decisions to make. Whether to go with a public or private adoption center, and whether to go with a baby, or a child that’s a bit older. There’s the question of when to tell family and friends; do they tell everyone now, when the process could take years, or wait until they know for sure that it’s happening?

These are all questions Kurt’s asked himself, but he hasn’t broached the subject with Blaine yet, and Blaine hasn’t made any motions to discuss their options either. It’s almost as if talking about the particulars of what they want to do will make it more than just a desire and intention, and as April quickly approaches, Kurt feels a layer of tension form in the atmosphere around them. They talk about everything _but_ , and it’s starting to get maddening.

It all comes to a head one day when Kurt calls Blaine from work to say he’ll be home in an hour or two. It ends up being just over four because the road was closed to deal with an accident.

And Kurt’s phone dies.

When he pulls into the driveway, he almost doesn’t want to go inside. Blaine’s going to be _pissed_. And even though it’s not Kurt’s fault that he couldn’t get home any faster, he’s still extremely wary as he enters the house.

“Blaine?” he calls hesitantly.

Blaine’s already crossing the threshold from the living room to the entrance way. He’s obviously been sitting in there for a while, because his hair is dishevelled, and the television isn’t on, and he looks incensed.

“What the fuck?” Blaine says dully.

Kurt winces. “I know. The road was closed off and my phone died. I didn’t know what to do.”

Blaine runs a frenzied hand through his hair and takes a breath that looks like it’s an attempt at calming down, but when he speaks he sounds just as upset. “That’s bullshit,” he states firmly. “Here’s what you could have done. You could have turned around and driven to a gas station and fucking called me on a payphone. You _should_ have charged your phone in the first place! What if there _was_ an emergency? Between here and Manhattan there are plenty of places for your car to break down! What if you’re in the middle of nowhere at three in the morning and your phone’s dead?”

Kurt totally understands where Blaine’s coming from, but he thinks Blaine’s being a bit unfair, and very much overreacting. “I could probably fix the problem in no time,” he reminds Blaine. “I know a thing or two about cars.”

“That is so not the point, Kurt!” Blaine says sharply.

Kurt cringes. “You’re right, you’re right. Look, it was an accident. If I’d gone back to find a gas station, I would have caught you by, what, half an hour? I figured it was just easier to stay where I was and come home as quickly as possible.”

Blaine stares at Kurt, mouth open. “Okay, I want you to think about this real hard. I tell you I’ll be home in two hours. An extra hour goes by, what do you do? Call my phone, check and see if everything’s okay? What if I don’t pick up? Do you figure it’s fine; my phone’s just turned off? What if, half an hour after that, there’s still no sign of me and you haven’t heard a thing? And then, half an hour after that? _Still_ nothing. Are you worried, Kurt?”

“Because I was out of my fucking mind!” Blaine shouts. “I’ve _been_ out of my mind since eight o’clock! I thought you’d crashed on the way over or rolled into a ditch; every possible horrible scenario was playing out in my head. So, if you could have spared me even half an hour of that, I would have really _fucking_ appreciated it.”

Kurt opens his mouth to respond but Blaine’s got more to say: “And you know what, it’s not just this, okay? It’s whenever you don’t call, which happens more than it should, and then I can’t fall asleep because I stupidly assumed you were gonna be home before midnight. And yeah, I could call and check, but the point is that I shouldn’t have to. Fuck, I can’t keep sitting on that couch and wondering if you’re dead for hours at a time! I _can’t_!”

Kurt bites his lip. “I’m sorry.”

Blaine shakes his head. “No, you’re not.” With that, he turns on his heel and pounds up the staircase, and a few moments later Kurt hears the sharp snap of the door to their guest room.

Yeah, Blaine is _really_ pissed.

~*~

Kurt wakes up the next morning feeling guilty, but he can’t remember right away what the source of the feeling is. Then he remembers, and he feels his stomach clench with regret.

It’s easier in the light of day to see where he went wrong. He should have found a way to call.

He gets up and walks across the hall, opening the door to the guest room and letting himself in. Blaine’s sleeping curled on his right side. Kurt considers coming back later, but he doesn’t want to go another minute feeling this terrible. He always hates going to bed when there’s conflict between the two of them, and now morning has come and it’s still there.

Kurt sits down on the edge of the bed and strokes Blaine’s scalp with his fingers, playing with the soft curls. Blaine opens his eyes after about a minute and blinks up at Kurt.

“I’m so sorry,” Kurt says softly. “I’d feel the same way if the situation was reversed.” He leans down and kisses Blaine in contrition. “I’m sorry.”

Blaine sniffs heavily and shifts on the bed to make room for Kurt to join him. Kurt lies down so they’re face to face. “Sorry I yelled,” Blaine mumbles, voice gruff from sleep.

Kurt shakes his head minutely. “You had every right to be upset.”

“I was just worried,” Blaine whispers with sad eyes. “I don’t want to get that… that call in the middle of night.”

“I’m sorry,” Kurt whispers, stricken.

Blaine shrinks the space between them to press his lips against Kurt’s. “It’s okay,” he breathes.

-

Unfortunately, Kurt has to head into work after breakfast, but he promises Blaine he’ll be home early. Blaine assures him he doesn’t have to rush home; he’s clearly starting to feel like he overreacted, but Kurt’s painfully aware that Blaine really didn’t.

Therefore, he has a good nine hours to think long and hard about the essence of Blaine’s blow-up. It’s obviously a lot more than just Kurt being late and not calling. He’s probably been holding a lot of those feelings in, perhaps for years, and Kurt feels sick at the idea that Blaine doesn’t feel comfortable bringing up his valid concerns.

He starts to think about that long drive he has to make into the city every weekday morning (and the occasional Saturday or Sunday), and the long drive back every evening. He considers how hard it is not only on Blaine but on Kurt as well.

If Kurt’s being honest with himself, he works about fifty hours a week, at minimum, and sixty or sixty five when he’s really pressed for time or feeling particularly inspired. He was right to tell Tina that it’s crazy. _He’s_ clearly crazy, and Blaine’s been putting up with it for years without much more than a deep sigh or long look when Kurt comes home from a very long day.

If they’re really going to go through with an adoption, he absolutely has to cut down on his hours. There’s no way they can even go through the preliminary stages if Kurt’s only home at night and most weekends. And that’s not even factoring in how much time and energy the actual kid will take up when he or she arrives. Kurt knows he can’t possibly be a good father with the schedule he has now.

By the time he’s saying goodnight to Judith, Phil, and Suzy, his mind is made up.

~*~

He finds Blaine watching the hockey game on mute when he arrives home. He takes his boots off by the door and pads into the room to take a seat beside Blaine, who pulls him into a one-armed hug and a kiss that stings.

“How’d your day go?” he asks.

Kurt takes a few moments to respond, fingers dancing along Blaine’s thigh. “It was... productive,” he settles on.

“Oh yeah? Did you finish that piece you’ve been working on?”

It takes Kurt a second to remember. “Oh, yeah, I finished that on Tuesday; today was a different sort of productive.” And then he’s saying all the things he’s been working over for... well, ages, really.

“I’m cutting my hours by half. And I’m going to work from home more often,” he announces. “I haven’t spoken to Judith about it yet, but I’m putting her in charge on the days I won’t be there. I trust her more than Suzy or Phil.”

Blaine pulls one leg up on to the couch and turns sideways to give Kurt his full attention. “Wait,” he says. “Is this about last night? Because I wasn’t angling for this. I don’t want you to--”

“Yes you do,” Kurt says gently. “You’d never ask me to, but you do want it. And it’s not about last night, not really, although it did wake me up to the problem. This is about you always allowing me the freedom to do my thing with no complaint on your part whatsoever. You’re always showing me _astounding_ levels of self-sacrifice.”

“When I went to New York,” Kurt elaborates, “you waited for me, and we both remember how awful it was. And the house! I know you wanted that house in Albany, and yet you put your personal preference aside so I could be closer to my work. And how have I repaid your unwavering support? You wait around for me to come home, and you never complain. By some miracle, you still see fit to put up with my bullshit, and I damn well owe you a little sacrifice on my part. A _good_ sacrifice; I can spend more time with you, I won’t have to be on the road for three to four hours every day, and I won’t be tired all the time.”

“It’s just not fair to you and everything you’ve put into this relationship,” Kurt finishes.

Blaine stares at Kurt, seemingly lost for words, until his hand travels up Kurt’s arm to close the distance between them. The kiss Blaine plants on Kurt makes him shiver. It’s deep and languid, and Kurt kisses back with everything he’s got. When Blaine pulls away, his face is wet. But so is Kurt’s, so it’s all good.

They end up sprawled in each other’s arms on the couch, exchanging kisses for what feels like hours. When the game ends with the Rangers’ resounding defeat to the Canadiens, Kurt realizes it actually has been hours.

Kurt can’t remember the last time they just lay together, enjoying each other’s company with no distractions and nowhere pressing to be. He’s missed it more than he can even put into words.

~*~

The very next morning, Friday, Kurt sleeps in. This is remarkable because Kurt has not been able to sleep in on a Friday since his brief summer vacation roughly nine months ago.

Blaine’s asleep in Kurt’s arms. He looks beautiful in the morning light, and Kurt can only lie there and thank the universe for gifting him with someone as amazing as Blaine, and a life Kurt wouldn’t trade for anything.

When Blaine wakes up a little while later, Kurt greets him by climbing on top of him. Blaine’s hands convulse on Kurt’s hips, and he thrusts up into Kurt’s weight. The heat’s almost unbearable; their cocks are sliding together with sweat. Kurt can’t control the groans of pleasure spilling from his mouth as he wraps their erections in one hand and brings them both to a shaky, searing orgasm that leaves them panting and breathless.

Kurt settles beside Blaine, draping an arm around his waist.

“Wow. Good morning,” Blaine croaks, still a little out of breath. “Not that I’m complaining, but shouldn’t you be well on your way to work by now?”

Kurt kisses Blaine and tangles their legs together. “When I make a promise, I follow through on it. I’m not going into work today.”

The look Blaine gives him contains so much joy that it makes Kurt’s heart pound inside his chest. “I love you,” Blaine whispers.

“I _fucking_ love you,” Kurt returns. He throws his legs over the side of the bed and says, in a voice that brooks no room for argument, “Okay, shower. Immediately.”

Blaine laughs and sits up.

Once they’re freshly clean, Kurt and Blaine make their way downstairs for some much-needed coffee and bowls of cereal. As soon as Blaine’s finished eating, Kurt gets up and beckons for Blaine to join him in the living room. He grabs his laptop off the coffee table on the way to the sofa and sits down.

“Okay, so,” he says, conversationally, “a few weeks ago I looked up some adoption agencies, and I found a few good ones.”

Blaine’s coffee mug falls to the floor with a muffled thump. There were only a few dregs left, so it doesn’t stain the carpet that much, but Kurt can’t help the tortured, “Blaine!” that comes out over the admittedly mostly minimal damage done to the Persian rug Kurt waited on for twenty-one months (and sixteen days, but who was counting? Not Kurt!).

“Sorry, sorry!” Blaine runs into the kitchen to get paper towels and the stain remover from under the sink and rushes back in, crouching hurriedly to salvage the problem. “You just caught me by surprise!” he splutters as he works to remove the stain.

Kurt shakes his head in resignation. After nine years of being together, he’s used to Blaine dropping things, especially when startled. He should know by now not to announce anything when Blaine’s got something in his hands.

Blaine joins Kurt on the couch when the stain’s gone (Kurt finally feels like he can breathe again) and clutches at Kurt’s bicep. “You’ve been researching adoption centers?” he asks in a rush.

“Mhmm.” He loads some of the pages he bookmarked and places the computer in Blaine’s lap, pointing at the screen. “This one looks really good. It’s private, but from what I can tell that’s our best bet if we want the process to go quickly. We need to talk about our age preference, because finding a newborn is infinitely harder and can take much longer than adopting an older child. If we do want a baby, we should put ads looking for birth mothers in the papers and online.”

Blaine’s scrolling down the page that describes the center’s credentials. He looks up. “Do you want a baby?”

Kurt blows out a breath. “Yes. Well, maybe. I don’t know.”

Blaine laughs. “I know the feeling.”

Kurt glances at the computer screen, where a picture of an adorable baby sits right in the header on the page. “A baby would be nice,” Kurt admits softly.

“It would,” Blaine nods. “So, baby it is?”

Kurt kisses Blaine in reply. Pulling away slightly, he asks, “Should we tell anyone yet?”

Blaine gives Kurt a half-shrug. “It’s up to you, really; doesn’t matter to me so much. I’ll just send a formal email informing my mother of the news and she’ll send an equally formal congratulations back. Pretty sure she couldn’t care less.”

Kurt brushes a comforting hand over Blaine’s knee. Blaine’s relationship with his parents has always been strained, treated more like a contractual obligation or financial transaction. Blaine’s father hadn’t even bothered to come to their wedding, and his mother’s stifling presence had only served to put Blaine on edge until Kurt pulled him into an empty room and gave him a blow-job to loosen him up, right before the service.

Ah, memories.

“Well,” Kurt says, forcing himself away from _that_ lovely mental image, “I wouldn’t mind telling Mercedes and Tina. And then I suppose I’d better tell everyone else, or I’m sure there’ll be hell to pay.” Blaine smiles. Kurt hesitates for a moment. “But I’d like to tell my parents in person. And I’d really like if you were there, too. Maybe we could visit them for a weekend?”

Blaine’s smile grows impossibly wide. “Of course! I forgot to tell you that your dad called yesterday. He hinted heavily that he’d like to see you.”

Kurt grins back. “All right, then. I’ll call him and check which weekends would work.”

-

Kurt calls his dad later in the day while Blaine’s out buying groceries.

His dad picks up after only one ring. “Kurt!” he exclaims warmly.

“Hey Dad! How are you? How’s Carole?”

“Me? I’m fine. Always tired these days. And Carole’s good. But never mind us, how are you?”

Kurt sits down on the edge of his bed and fiddles with the hood of the sweater Blaine left there earlier. “I’m... I’m really good, actually. I’ve decided to cut down on my hours at work.”

“You have? Kurt, I’m so happy to hear that. I swear, you’ve been so busy, sometimes I just want to come up there and _make_ you rest.”

Kurt rolls his eyes and stretches out to lie down on the bed in a sprawl. His dad worries way too much.

“Dad, I was wondering... Would Blaine and I be able to come up and visit for a weekend one of these days?”

His dad’s reply is immediate. “Are you kidding? How soon can you come?”

~*~

In the end, they almost miss their flight, and it’s undeniably Kurt’s own fault. Just as they’re getting ready to leave, Kurt realizes he has no idea where his passport is.

It takes twenty minutes for the two of them, searching frantically through every room of the house and snapping at each other from a distance, to locate it in the drawer underneath the kitchen cabinets, where Kurt had evidently left it for safe keeping upon his return from Paris in January.

They rush out of the house and drive the thirty minutes to the airport in tense silence. Blaine’s driving, and he refuses to put any music on, so they sit there fuming soundlessly at each other until they reach the airport.

After that it’s a mad dash through security, which miraculously only takes ten minutes, and when they arrive at the gate, it’s to discover that while they are in fact five minutes late, the flight has remained to allow for Mr Kurt Hummel and his husband to arrive before take-off. They’re both escorted to their first class seats with no trouble and great service to boot.

However, there’s still a palpable tension between them.

Kurt can’t help himself. “Rushed around for nothing,” he says smugly.

“Kurt Hummel, I am so annoyed with you right now,” Blaine snaps.

Kurt tuts impatiently. “It was fine. You can relax now.”

“ _You_ can refrain from telling me to relax, thank you very much, and, in future, you can make sure your damn passport’s ready to go the night before!”

“Oh, lighten up! It’s just a flight; we could have got a later one if we needed to.”

Blaine clenches his jaw. “Fuck off,” he grinds out, plugging into his iPod and turning pointedly away.

“Bitch,” Kurt grumbles, synching his own iPod and turning to face the window.

Blaine can be so annoyingly self-righteous sometimes!

When the plane touches down in Ohio a short while later, Kurt grabs his carry-on (Blaine worked on this to the point where Kurt now only needs a carry-on for a weekend away; it took years, though) and exits the airplane without a word to his husband. He waits in the terminal until Blaine exits the tunnel with his suitcase in tow, shirt sleeves rolled up and suit jacket slung over one arm. Blaine gives him a grumpy look, which Kurt meets with one of his own, and they set off to find a cab.

Kurt’s just starting to worry about how awful this trip is bound to be if they’re going to spend the entire duration glowering at one another, when their cab driver starts singing, terribly out-of-tune, to All You Need is Love on the radio.

Kurt catches Blaine’s eye. They both look away rapidly. Kurt can see Blaine’s shoulders shaking with silent laughter in his peripheral vision and happily joins in. A moment later, Blaine reaches across the middle seat between them and closes his hand around Kurt’s. Kurt laces their fingers together, and just like that their respective sour moods have broken.

In no time, the cab drives up in front of his dad and Carole’s still relatively new home, situated on the other side of Lima to where Kurt lived for eighteen years. They pay the driver, grab their bags and are soon being greeted with enthusiastic hellos and bear hugs on the front porch.

Time passes (bizarrely quickly, he’s noticed), but Kurt thinks he’ll always consider any place his dad lives as his first and foremost home.

And it feels really good to be home.

~*~

Kurt and Blaine have already decided not to bring it up on the first night. They use dinner to catch up on the months since their last visit over Christmas. The food is good, the wine even better, and the conversation pleasant and easy.

The four of them end up chatting over coffee and cookies late into the night, and by the time Kurt’s pulling out the sofa-bed and making it with the linens Carole brings from the hall closet, he and Blaine are too exhausted from their long day to do much more than say goodnight before Kurt’s down for the count.

-

Kurt considers dropping the news over breakfast, then lunch, and finally over supper. Blaine’s clearly allowing Kurt to take the lead, but every time Kurt opens his mouth to make their announcement he freezes up.

Finally, over dessert, Kurt just says it: “Blaine and I are planning to adopt.”

There’s a long moment of awkward silence and shocked staring from his dad and Carole, and then they’re talking rapidly, over each other.

“When did you decide this!?”

“Ohmygod, congratulations! How wonderful!”

Kurt’s a little taken aback by the double shot of frenzied speaking, so Blaine answers Burt’s questions for him. “We’ve both been thinking about it for a while, but we hadn’t really talked about it until about eight weeks ago.”

Burt pushes aside his unfinished pie and rests his elbows on the table, looking faint. “You’re adopting?” he verifies.

Kurt’s starting to feel cagey. “Yes, Dad. Please tell me you aren’t about to pull a Focus on the Family and insist a child needs a mother and a father.”

“Of course not!” Burt nearly shouts, looking wounded. “I’m just – shocked is all. This is a huge thing to spring on your old man. I just never pictured you the type to settle down with kids. Particularly since you’re not interested in making them.”

Kurt can’t fight the flush building in his cheeks. “Well, Blaine and I want a kid, so we came all the way out here to tell you face-to-face, and I’m starting to feel like you’re not happy about it.”

“Oh Kurt, no!” Carole gasps. “Of course we’re happy about it! Burt, we’re going to be grandparents!”

Kurt feels his chest tighten, and with a shock of embarrassment, he realizes he’s about to cry. Just a few words from his step-mom and he’s turning into a weeping mess. Next moment, Burt’s up and gathering Kurt into a hug that lifts Kurt off his feet, even though he’s now significantly taller than his dad.

So he’s crying. Sue him.

Carole joins them in their enthusiastic embrace, tugging Blaine into it as well.

-

Under clearly false pretences, Carole lures Blaine out to the backyard the following afternoon to ‘show him the beginnings of her garden’. Blaine’s never been interested in gardening, so it’s fairly transparent that she’s giving father and son a chance to talk alone, and judging by Blaine’s sudden, uncharacteristic enthusiasm for gardening, he’s cottoned on to Carole’s actual motivations.

Kurt’s suspicions are further confirmed when his dad sits down at the kitchen table with a green tea for himself and a mug of coffee for Kurt, wearing an expression of determination.

“I’ve got a few things to say, and I don’t want to hear one word ‘til I’m finished. I don’t care that you’re a grown man now,” he says firmly, albeit with a slightly pained look, “I’m still your dad, and that stands for something. So listen up.”

Kurt sips his coffee primly, arching an eyebrow in invitation. He’s not saying a word.

“First of all, I _am_ happy for you and Blaine. I can’t wait to hold my grandson or granddaughter one day. We clear?”

Kurt nods, but obligingly says nothing.

“Good. I’m also going to point out how uncalled-for your comment was last night. I don’t know where you come off thinking I don’t know perfectly well that a kid can do just fine without a mother.” Burt waits a moment, probably to let the weight of his words really sink in, and then he adds, “It was insulting, and you and I both know that argument’s always been a load of crap. You accuse me of having some problem with how you live your life every time we hit a new thing, and it pisses me off, Kurt. You’re my son. I’m proud of the life you’re living; I always have been, and I plan to tell everyone who’ll listen, and even the ones that won’t, that my son and his _husband_ are adopting a kid. So knock it off, all right?”

Kurt’s insides squirm with guilt and shame. It _was_ totally uncalled for! How could he have said that to his dad? He nods again, sombre.

“And finally,” Burt says, taking a long sip of tea, “I want to see this future grandkid of mine. It’d be nice if you and Blaine came along, too. I want more than Christmas or Thanksgiving. I want to see you three times a year, at least. I’ll pay for the flights out; I’ll come up there if I have to -- I don’t care, I just want to see this kid grow up. Understand?”

Kurt bites his lip, unbelievably touched. “I understand,” he says softly.

Burt nods decisively, and then he’s asking about work, their conversation much lighter, until Carole and Blaine return to the kitchen, looking like they’ve had their own informative, cozy chat.

~*~

Kurt calls Mercedes on a Wednesday night, when he knows she’ll be home from work early. She’s in L.A., and the three-hour time difference means they miss each other’s phone calls quite often.

Luckily, Mercedes is available. She picks up almost immediately with an excited, “Kurt!”

“’Cedes!” Kurt cries, “Oh my _god_ , how _are_ you!?”

“I’m amazing! I’m seeing someone! And – Kurt, I don’t want to jinx it, but I’m feeling really positive about him.”

“Oh, girl, tell me everything!”

“Well, his name’s Keith, and he’s studying architecture. I met him at an album launch for a co-worker of mine, and we hit it off right away.”

“Mercedes, I’m so happy for you! I can’t wait to meet him!”

“Yes, you need to! You’ll like him, I think. He dresses really well.”

“Good. Can’t have any less when it comes to my best friend.”

Mercedes laughs. “What about you, baby? How’s New York? How’s Blaine?”

Kurt’s used to Mercedes’ rapid-fire questions, answering with ease: “New York’s great, Blaine’s good, and I’m doing really well.” He hesitates very briefly, then adds, “I’m cutting down on my work hours.”

“What!?” Mercedes yelps. “Okay, where’s the real Kurt Hummel, and what have you done with him?”

Kurt laughs along with Mercedes, but notes the importance of what she’s said. Apparently everyone in his life knows he’s a workaholic.

“Blaine helped me to realize it was a problem. I came home later than I should have one night, and – he was so angry, ‘Cedes. He really ripped into me; it wasn’t easy to hear, but he was right. I work late way too often, and I wind up leaving him in limbo half the time. Which is definitively not cool. So I’ve decided to change things.”

“Wow!” Mercedes remarks brightly. “I’ll have to give Blaine major props when I see him. I’ve been saying you work too hard for years, and you’ve never listened. I guess it helps that he’s your ticket to Orgasm Land.”

“Mercedes!” Kurt gasps, faux-scandalized.

She roars with laughter; Kurt laughs so hard his stomach starts to ache. Once they’ve calmed down, Kurt clears his throat.

“There’s more,” he begins. “Blaine and I –- we’re looking into adoption.”

Shocked silence. Then, “You’re having a baby?” she shrieks. “You and Blaine are having a baby?”

“Yeah,” Kurt says, voice constricted with emotion.

There’s a short bout of reverent silence, then, “I better be godmother, bitch!”

Kurt laughs joyfully, heart soaring. “You know it.”

~*~

Mr Kurt Hummel and Mr Blaine Anderson  
Are looking to expand their family with a child.  
Financially Comfortable,  
Located in New York State.  
Please Call to Inquire.

There. That looks all right.

Who is he kidding? It looks completely uninspired! What woman would answer to such a bland advertisement?

Kurt reads it out loud to himself.

Now it _sounds_ ridiculous.

With a cry of frustration, Kurt abandons the computer in his office. He needs a new project, _right now_.

Some time later, Blaine arrives home from substituting at Preston. “Kurt?” he calls from downstairs.

“Up here,” Kurt calls back. He’s busy hanging up shirts in the bedroom, and wondering whether Blaine will notice if he gets rid of the ugly shirt he’s been clinging to for six years. Deciding Blaine will definitely notice, he hangs it up with a rueful sigh and pushes the clump of shirts further down the rack. He turns toward the bed to pick up the remaining shirts, and he notices Blaine standing at the door.

“Hey, baby,” Kurt says, moving to grab the waiting shirts.

“Hey.” Blaine enters the room and walks over to the perch on the bed, and when Kurt reaches to grab the last three shirts, Blaine catches Kurt around the wrist and tugs him into the V of his legs. He presses a kiss the palm of Kurt’s hand.

“You’re reorganizing the closet,” Blaine points out. “What’s on your mind?”

Kurt rests one hand on the nape of Blaine’s neck, toying with a few errant curls. Blaine knows him almost too well at this point. He sighs. “I just – I guess I’m worried no one will like our ad. What if no one replies?”

The unasked question, ‘What if this doesn’t work out?’ doesn’t really need to be asked.

Blaine smiles in apparent understanding, moving his hand up Kurt’s arm to pull him closer. “All we can do,” Blaine says, squeezing Kurt’s elbow in a familiar gesture of comfort, “is write the ad and post it. Worrying about the response won’t make it happen, so let’s just focus on the bits we can control and feel the rest out from there. Okay?”

Kurt nods, leaning down to rest his forehead against Blaine’s. “Okay.”

Blaine’s right. This entire process is bound to be full of ups and downs, progress and setbacks. They can spend their time worrying about it, or they can wait, as patiently as possible, to see what happens.

In the meantime, Kurt decides, they have each other.

~*~

The start of their summer is filled with a capped excitement. But the weeks pass without any calls from prospective birth mothers, and eventually the weeks turn to months.

There are days when Kurt feels particularly letdown by the lack of response; one evening at the end of July, Kurt pulls over to the side of the road and cries, just rests his head on the steering wheel of his car and lets himself go. Then he puts himself back together again, goes home to Blaine and tries to make the best of things.

As hard as it is to be going into August with no word from a single person, the radio silence brings Kurt and Blaine together in new ways. Kurt's not working as much, so they have more time to spend in one another's company.

It's not easy. Sometimes Kurt can tell Blaine's been crying, or Blaine catches Kurt on the tail-end of a teary breakdown, but their resulting synchronism is a reward for those especially rough days, because at least they have each other to lean on.

Kurt's never felt closer to his other half. Whatever the future has in store for them, Kurt's secure in the knowledge that they can face it as the fierce power couple they are.

The rest is just details.

**Author's Note:**

> I have to give credit to valentina_says over at LJ, who first inspired this verse with a prompt about a future Kurt and Blaine. This story, and others in this universe I've invented, exist because she thought of it first.
> 
> Thank you for reading. I'd love to hear your thoughts!


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